A Christmas Drunken Tale - A Christmas Yule story
by FanLass
Summary: A one shot Holiday drunken tale where Methos and Joe are discuss Christmas vs. Yule while having a drink at Le Blues Bar. Then so Joe will not toss him out, Methos tells Joe a story about how he got his name. Written for the Holidays Please review.


**A Christmas Drunken Tale**

A one shot story told by Methos on December 24th, 2012 in Paris, France at Le Blues Bar. As always I write in an alternate universe. This drunken tale takes place the Christmas after the current one. The original Drunken tales will return soon.

I would like to especially thank my Beta reader/editor - **FerretKid** who helped me brainstorm and find all the itsy-bitsy teeny-weenie commas went. I encourage everyone to read - _**How To Win Friends and Influence Immortals**_ at - u/2825702/FerretKid

* * *

******A Christmas Drunken Tale - A Christmas Yule story**  


Duncan and Amanda had gone with Connor to Glenfinnan on Loch Shiel, in the Highlands of Scotland, to celebrate Christmas. Richie was visiting his new girlfriend Marta in Madrid. Earlier that week Mac had asked Methos if he wanted to come with them to Scotland, but the old Immortal was working as a professor at La Sorbonne and had papers to correct. Methos gave Mac his famous half smile and said, "You kids go and have fun."

Joe was excited because he had been invited to his daughter Amy's house for Christmas dinner. But, Amy's boss, Dr. Amy Zoll, was coming, too. She was in charge of the Methos Chronicles now and both Amy's knew Joe had an ongoing relationship with the oldest Immortal. Joe was sure dinner couldn't be a purely social visit, and was preparing for a squeeze play from Dr. Zoll.

However, Joe had a trump card. Methos had set Dawson up with a very substantial bank account just in case the attempt was made to force Joe to choose between his pension and divulging Methos' personal information. During the eighties and early nineties, Adam Pierson had worked for the Watchers and the money he earned had been prudently invested and was now all in Joe's name. Dawson had to laugh that no one in the Watcher's Council realized that whenever he took a vacation or restocked one of his two bars; it was all financed with Watcher money.

Le Blues Bar had closed early for the staff's Christmas party. Now everyone returned to their respective homes except for Joe, who remaining behind to clean and restock alone. His plans called for meeting Amy at Father Liam's midnight mass and he still had plenty of time, then who should saunter to the door, but Methos.

Joe sighed. If only he had turned the lights out just a couple minutes earlier, Methos wouldn't have been able to tell he was still in the bar. He fumbled for his keys and unlocked the door so the Immortal could enter. Joe wasn't someone who would leave a friend in the cold on Christmas Eve.

"Hey, Methos come in and have a beer. Merry Christmas!" Joe said as he served a beer to his friend.

"Yeah, happy Winter Solstice Joe. Well, that was actually three days ago. It's Yule, properly pronounced _Jéola."_

"Normally I might find that fascinating, but it's Christmas Eve, and since it's 2012 and not the Bronze or Dark Ages, can't you just wish me a Merry Christmas?"

"No!" Methos was shocked. "Joe, you do realize that Christmas is a new holiday, which simply replaced one people had celebrated for eons?"

"Like you said, times change, people change, and so do holidays. Instead of whatever Yule was it's Merry Christmas now. Can't you just let it go Methos?" Joe shook his head and scratched his beard as he continued to wipe down the bar.

"_Jéola _was celebrated since the Neolithic times, or what some call the New Stone era, a period of great advancement and technical development beginning about 10,000 BC."

"Advancement? What technical development? Did they invent the plow?" the old watcher smiled. "Methos, I know you're old, but even you weren't around in 10,000 BC, so what's the big deal?"

Methos ran a hand through his messy hair and then raised his hands in the air to defend himself. "Yeah, I might not have been, but I knew people who were."

Joe turned from cleaning, put both hands flat on the bar, and leaned forward. Looking in Methos' eyes, he challenged him. "Like who?"

"Lots of people," Methos flippantly said. "Hell, Joe, do you remember the names of all the kids you went to elementary school with? Don't you care what this time of year used to celebrate? You're the one who claims to be a historian!"

"Methos, you should have been a lawyer."

"I was a few times. Doctor, lawyer, or archaeologist, I have the paperwork to cover them all, but that's getting off topic. This is about Yule."

"I expect you want another beer so you can tell me the story?"

Methos smiled as the old Watcher went to the tap and pulled two heads, one for each of them.

Joe slid the brew to Methos' waiting hands. He tipped his head with a reluctant smile, still grumpy because he had someplace else to go. But Joe wasn't the type of man to leave a friend alone on Christmas Eve and he figured Methos had nowhere else to be. "I don't have all night. In case you didn't notice, I am closed."

"Well, I'll try to make this quick," Methos said a little snidely, while squinting his eyes.

"That would be a Christmas miracle." Joe muttered to himself.

"What'd you'd say?"

"It's Christmas Eve get on with it," Joe growled

"There are tales from all around the world, not just the Celtic lands, that honor the Winter Solstice and Yule_. _These are all stories of rebirth and the power of transition from darkness into light. But to me, _Jéola_ will always be the celebration of the Wild Hunt."

"The Wild Hunt? I thought you were talking about the winter Solstice?"

"Same thing. It was an ancient custom were men went hunting and then made sacrifices in the temples to make sure the world would be reborn again in the spring."

Joe shrugged. Who was he to argue with the master storyteller? Besides, it would take too long.

"The farmers came to the temples too, and brought the harvest from the fields and animals to sacrifice. Oh, and there was always a feast with lots of ale to drink."

"Now I know why you went to the Yule feast, you got free beer," Joe snickered.

Methos ignored Joe and enthusiastically continued his story, "All kinds of wild animals and livestock were killed and the blood collected from them was called _hlaut_, which means sacrificial blood. The sacrificial twigs, called _aspergills, _were used to sprinkle the blood all over the idols and the walls of the temple. Likewise the men present were to be sprinkled with blood."

"And you're upset we replaced that bloody mess with Santa Claus and the nativity?" Joe took a drink of his beer and chucked at his friend.

"Joe, you don't understand. Even in Judaism life is passed through the blood."

"But you're talking about pagan blood sacrifice to gods no one even remembers. And maybe they were replaced by Christian holidays as the population was converted…"

"Converted! That only meant accept this new religion or lose your head, yeah we were all saying the Hail Marys." Methos continued on passionately, "Other men braver than myself chose to die rather than renounce the old beliefs. The slaughter was in the tens of thousands and..."

Joe interrupted, "Methos, it's Christmas Eve! Can we please skip the discussion of genocide for tonight!" Joe's voice was as equally edgy as his friend's.

"Joe, I remember those gods, those people, I remember what we used to sing." Methos' strong tenor filled the bar as he sang a tune that suspiciously sounded like God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.

_"The Holly King is gone, and the Oak King reigns -_

_Yule is the time of the old winter gods!_

_Hail to Baldur! To Saturn! To Odin!_

_Hail to Ameratsu! To Demeter!_

_Hail to Ra! To Horus!_

_Hail to Frigga, Minerva Sulis and Cailleach Bheur!_

_It is their season, and high in the heavens,_

_May they grant us their blessings this winter day."_

The old Watcher raised his eyebrows, "Methos, it's Christmas Eve! Can you think of any other way to denigrate it? Really, Ra and Horus? Weren't they Egyptian?"

"I was just trying to explain about Yule, but... if it bothers you that much I'll just go home. Sorry I upset you and criticized your holiday." The lean tall man gulped down the last of his beer, got off the barstool, and pulled on his long wool coat. He gave Joe a sad look as he turned to leave.

Joe rolled his eyes. He knew the old Immoral lived a solitary life and his only other close friends had left for their holiday destinations. Joe also knew Methos would never admit holidays, even Christian ones, were difficult to spend alone. He was sure Methos had stopped by in a search for someone to talk to.

"For crying out loud, Methos, don't go yet! Tell me more about Yule. But for God's sake, can you leave out the pagan gods and the blood and guts? Here, you can even have another beer." After checking his watch Joe sighed and continued, "I have a little more time before I meet Amy for Midnight Mass."

"Thanks Joe." Methos came back to the bar stool and pulled off his coat. The Immortal's large hazel eyes met his friends. Funny for just a moment Joe swore he saw a deep sadness in Methos' eyes that threatened to swallow up the entire room. Then with a blink they returned back to the stone cold pools Joe knew all so well. "You're not just humoring me are you?"

"No! Now, are you going to tell the damn story?"

Methos gave Joe the familiar smile that must have gotten him out of many tight spots in the past 5,000 years.

Joe closed his eyes and tried to recall if he had ever won an argument with Methos. It was best to just put on his Watcher hat and see what the Immortal had to say.

"Well, fires were lit in the middle of the temple floor and kettles hung over them. The meat was boiled for the banquet, the chieftain blessed all the sacrifices, and then the feast would begin. The colors of red and green that are used in modern decorations can be traced back to the Yule celebration. Red signified the sacrifice of the animals and green stood for the plants used for food, medicines, and magic. A large Yule log was always burned and at this time to weave a special spell. It gave a way for the living to send good wishes to departed loved ones. Also, the dead were able to send messages through the veil of the Yule log to the living."

"Methos, you gotta be kidding. I thought the Yule log that was burnt for fun and warmth, not that it was something magical so people could communicate with spirits."

"Joe, the story of Yule is all about death and rebirth, to find a reason to go on living through the long winter. The Yule log was part of the magic that connected people to their past and to their future."

"I never heard that story before. In all the chronicles no one has written that down."

"There are lots of stories that aren't in the chronicles. Like the fact that December 24th was the time of Mōdraniht, or mother's night, and that was a time of fertility rights."

"Damnit! Don't tell me what happened during Mōdraniht, because now you're definitely spoiling my Christmas! Honestly, fertility right!"

"Joe, where do think the new church took whole holy mother thing from, and got December 25th as the day of Christ's birth?"

"Because it's from the bible!"

"Joe, I knew Jesus and traveled with his apostles. I broke bread with them many times I even knew his mother, whose name really was Mary."

"Methos, I never know when you're lying or telling the truth! Dammit, even Darius was a Christian! And from what I read in the chronicles, he got his white Quickening from Emrys who was also one. So, if you knew Jesus why aren't you a Christian?"

"Maybe I'm just too old to change."

"Or maybe you're really a fool?"

"Maybe... Yes, Darius celebrated Christmas. I don't know how Emrys felt about the change in the holiday since I generally avoided discussion of such things with him. Darius and I used to celebrate Yule together." Methos lifted his glass in a toast. "To the good old days of Yuletide when there was the greatest of mirth and joy among all men."

"You know, Methos, this year I just want to enjoy Christmas with my daughter and eat turkey, mashed potatoes and pies. I do not want to hear about how people used to smear blood all over themselves, sacrifice animals, burn logs, and celebrate fertility rights. For once, I don't care about your stories, which are probably lies anyway. Its getting late, I'm closing the bar, get out!" Joe paused and pointed his finger towards the door. "And go home!"

"Come on Joe, just one more drink. I promise we can talk about whatever you want."

The Watcher scratched his beard a moment. Did he really hear right? "Do you mean that? No more tales of Yule? I can ask you a questions and you'll answer me honestly?"

"Well, I didn't say that!"

"Leave! I'm closed until after Christmas. No free beer tomorrow!" Joe scolded and waved his friend towards the door.

"Okay, you get your way, ask me anything! But let's sit in the office with a bottle of whiskey. I'm only answering one question, so you better choose carefully."

Joe didn't have to think about it. He had one question that had bugged him for ages.

"How did you get your name? It means mystery, right?"

"That's two questions, Joe"

"Give me a break, you've practically ruined my Christmas Eve with your story of bloody sacrifice, and you want to complain about semantics. You're a damn pain in the ass!"

Methos roared with laughter, "I guess you're right, Joe. It's from the Sumerian Mūthos, which was in Mesopotamia and can be loosely translated as myth or legend. Modern languages pronounce the ū sound as an e, making it Methos."

"You didn't answer my question, how did you get the name? It's not the sort of name someone would give their child. Did someone give it to you, or did you just make it up?" Joe pulled a good bottle of whiskey from under the bar. "Grab the glasses, I'll meet you in there after I go to the head."

After placing the glasses on the desk, Methos sprawled in a comfortable leather chair to wait.

When Joe appeared he opened the whiskey and poured the first round before sitting at his desk.

"Someone gave me the name, Joe! Do you really think I'm so arrogant I would call myself a myth?"

"Yeah, I do! Who gave you the name then? What was your name before you were Immortal?"

"That is an entirely different question, Joe…"

"Methos, just be straight with me, I'm not going tell the Watchers. Miss Amy Zoll will never know."

"But you'll write in that bloody journal of yours!" Methos objected.

"Which you're going to retrieve before my body is cold, so stop bull shitting me."

Methos smiled, and shook his head. Maybe Joe realized just how much he enjoyed their friendship. He drank the whiskey in one gulp. "Smooth! Pour me another please? It's sort of a long story, are you sure you have time? It is Christmas Eve and you wanted to leave early…"

"You're right, I don't have all night so can you get on with it?" Joe gruffly shot back as he filled Methos' glass.

"Like most people, my earliest memories start when I was about three but they're not clear until I was about five. Whoever had adopted me had either died or long ago abandon me. I was an orphan and property of the tribe."

"That's terrible!" Joe exclaimed.

"No, it wasn't. I was treated fairly, I was fed and clothed. The main difference between then and now is that everyone worked, or you didn't eat. I was a strong, smart lad who learned fast and did as many jobs as possible. That was how I ensured I would remain valuable to the elders. By the time I was eight I was hunting, tending the animals, collecting wood, and keeping the fires going. My name wasn't important, I was the boy who killed the boar, the boy who tended the camels, the boy who was a lookout. So, one of my earliest names was The Boy Who Helped The Tribe Survive."

"Can you say that in one word?"

"Sure." Methos closed his eyes and allowed memories long buried to play through his mind, showing him all the things he had done as a child.

"Do you still remember the word?" Joe prodded.

"Yep. However, the language is long dead and I'd have trouble with the pronunciation. It had a lot of guttural sounds in it, isn't easy to say, and I'm not going to tell you."

"Why?" Joe demanded.

"Because names change, when I was eleven my tribe was conquered. Most of the adults were killed except for some of women and children that were taken as slaves. From Then on I was just called slave boy." Methos laughed, oh, don't worry, Joe. As soon as I could, I escaped and ventured out on my own. After that, whenever I met new people I simply made up a name that best suited my situation at the moment.

"How did that go?" Joe was excited, learning Methos' early history but tried to keep his tone neutral. Hoping all his year of Watcher training would keep him looking detached when he knew he wasn't.

"It was fine until I fell in love," Methos' voice tapered off into a low soft chuckle.

"Your first wife? Why are you laughing?" Joe voice was filled with curiosity.

"It was wonderful for a few years. And then I was apparently murdered for my valuables and clothes."

"They stole your clothes after you were dead?"

"But that wasn't the worst thing! I didn't realize that I had died until my wife was nearly frightened to death to see me return home. You see, she and her lover killed me." Methos snorted.

"You can laugh about it?"

"It was a very, very long time ago. My first broken heart, sixty-seven plus left to go."

"Methos as fascinating as this all is, what does the hell does this story have to do with your name?" It was five minutes past eleven and Joe was impatient again.

"I'm getting to that, Joe. Back in those days people generally died of either disease or violence, so pre-Immortals were almost guaranteed to become Immortals. Suddenly there were a lot of people trying to kill me because they wanted my head or because I was different. Fortunately I honed my survival skills and stayed alive for a long time before I faced another Immoral in battle. That first Quickening was a wild ride."

"Methos do have any idea how long was it between your first death and your first Quickening?"

"Sorry, Joe, I hadn't started to write a journal yet and the years have run together. I can tell you iron wasn't invented yet and bronze was the main metal. Bronze is brittle, but is sharper and lighter than stone. Whatever weapon you chose didn't matter, it always seemed to end as a wrestling match, so the wise slept with a knife.

"Methos, stop lying to me."

"I'm not! I know I had been Immortal for centuries, but I have no idea how long. I didn't know how to write yet, but I did drink beer. Everybody drank it, the water wasn't safe, but the beer was. Beer was also a source of our daily nutrition. Trust me, beer saved the world."

"Methos, this is all fascinating, but you're stalling and I need to leave soon so I can get to midnight mass."

"Over the years I had yet to meet another Immortal I could call teacher. I was an independent, untrusting sort of guy."

"You? Never," Joe smirked

"I would pick up a few things from one Immoral and move on because sooner or later everyone wanted me dead."

"If you took as long to tell a story back then as you do now I can guess why," Joe muttered.

Methos just flashed him a half smile. "Then one day I got into a bar fight and was saved by an Immortal who was a Holy Man. Afterwards he bought me a drink and we chatted. Most people at the time thought he was a god, a mystic, or some kind of prophet."

"Who was he?" Joe eagerly asked.

"He called himself Haraonos, the Holy Man. When Haraonos asked me who I was, I gave him my usual line of bull. But he didn't accept that and continued to ask who I was. Finally, I said I wasn't anybody. Haraonos said he had dreams about an Immortal who fought very well, but preferred to not fight, who had been around for eons, and had no name. Haraonos told me that in his dream I was his student and he was my teacher. I had nothing to fear from him and he would never harm me. At the time I didn't believe him, but I was curious and wanted to learn more so I stayed by his side. He was full of wisdom and saw something in me I never saw before in myself."

"What was that?"

"He saw my potential." Methos gulped down a shot of whiskey and closed his eyes.

"The watchers have no records of Haraonos, the Holy Man."

"Haraonos was Emrys, and he was the first person to name me Mūthos. He said it was a name the earth spirits had given me and told him my destiny was to be an enigma, a mystery, a myth. When I rode with the horsemen I knew I was his greatest disappointment. I was always jealous that Emrys always knew the right thing to do while I always lived in the moment, trying to survive another day."

Joe and Methos drank in silence while the Watcher absorbed the story. Was it true? Did Emrys, who gave Darius the white Quickening, give Methos his name? Or was the old Immortal telling another lie? Joe searched his friend's eyes for an answer, but they were dark pools, closed to him.

"You've been teaching at La Sorbonne for the past three and half years as Adam Richards, right?"

"Yeah, I'm a Classical History professor," Methos looked at floor, "I'm kind of used to Adam. Besides, the Watchers have photos on me dating back to the mid eighties. They even have a Watcher assigned to me, not that she finds me when I'm not here or in my classroom. So what's the big deal? The faculty at La Sorbonne think I'm Adam Pierson's cousin."

"Well, Adam, what are you doing for Christmas dinner? I mean unless you have a big hunt and bloody yuletide feast already planned for tomorrow?"

"No," Methos chuckled. "I was going to stay home and order in Chinese."

"Well, you know my daughter Amy invited me over. You should know her boss Dr. Zoll will be there too, but I think Adam Richards could use a nice, home cooked Christmas meal." Joe offered.

"I don't think that's good idea. Dr. Zoll still thinks I'm a murderous bastard."

"Come on, Methos, what are you afraid of? Besides, my Amy still owes you for saving her life years ago, so she won't mind." Joe smiled.

"Joe, I realize you retired, but I'm sure you know your daughter is my official Watcher. I doubt she wants the Immortal she is watching to show up at her Christmas dinner."

"Let me worry about that! Just meet me here about one and don't be late! Dr. Zoll still doesn't know Amy is my daughter so mum's the word. She has another party to attend, so she's leaving early anyway."

Methos pulled on his coat while shaking his head. "Thanks, but I really don't think I should..."

"But nothing, you'll love Amy's pie! You want me to call you a cab?"

"No, I like the fresh air. It keeps me young." The two men paused at the door and Methos put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "By the way, Joe, have a Merry Christmas."

"I'll be waiting for you, so don't let me down." Joe watched Methos return his smile and leave without answering.

Joe pondered the story Methos had told him and his name The Boy That Helped His Tribe Survive. Methos' tribe was different now that it consisted of himself, Duncan, Richie, and Amanda. But perhaps his name remained the same. That wasn't the story he had intended to tell Joe... Or was it?

The clock struck eleven thirty as Joe rushed to make Father Liam's Midnight Mass. He had planned to meet Amy at the services, so he would be able to tell her he had invited Methos to dinner. Tonight Methos had a Yuletide hunt to say goodbye to and others to remember. He thought of Methos' blessing and repeated it quietly as he locked the bar door.

"To the good old days of the Yuletide when there was the greatest mirth and joy among all men. And, Merry Christmas."

**The End?**

* * *

I do not own Highlander and this was not written for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended. This is written purely for fun with Holiday spirit. Ok if you really like this story, there could be a chapter two. Then you would find out why Methos is feeling Sad. Other wise I will keep it a one shot.

Feedback is always welcome.

**Happy New Year**

**FanLass**


End file.
